I'm not ready
by NotascrazyasI
Summary: I'm not ready. Exhaustion pulls at all my limbs, keeping my body to the ground instead of standing and facing off my attackers like I wish to. They came too early. I'm not ready. OC!Mexico! Deal with it! I'm not really sure what Genre this is. Sorry...


**_I don't own Hetalia! OC WARNING! OC! OC! OC!_**

They're getting closer. Each step they take crunching in the dirt and making my heart sputter.

I'm not ready. Neither are my brothers. We're all so weak, I doubt we can even raise a fist against them. Exhaustion pulls at all my limbs, keeping my body to the ground instead of standing and facing off my attackers like I wish to. They came too early. I have few men left, that bastard Spain killed them all. There's nothing for me to fight with. I'm not ready.

They take another step just a slow, cocky step forward. They know I'm done for, know that I can't fight them. Perhaps they can see it in my eyes or perhaps it's the men of my country that are giving me away, so few, yet so brave. I know that these men will die for me and that makes me sad. Even though I hate these nations with all my being, if I could I would give myself away to save my men's lives.

I wonder what they'll do to me. Will they tear me to pieces, grasping whatever bits they have the strength to obtain. Or will only one keep me, paying off the others to leave me to him? I can't imagine these greedy bastards will be willing to back off so easily.

It makes me almost miss that Spanish asshole. Ha! At least he treated me well. After slaughtering all of my original people and filling me with his own brutal kind, that is. Once I started to look like him, he behaved like I was a princess.

Another loud movement snaps me back to the current problem. Shadows criss-cross my body and my brothers' behind me, in the shape of a human. The new nations that I attempt to hide are still asleep, having no idea the predators that stood before us.

They're so close I can smell them now. It's not a scent that humans know well. Most nations smell of earth and water, though each has their own specific characteristics from their own country (like my previous charge always smells of spices). These European nations, so bitter towards each other, smell of thousands of men's blood, and the repulsive scent of bloodlust.

Blood. It's been a long time since I've come across such a rusty flavor (not counting the war that had just given me my independence). So strong and revolting, coating the back of my throat and tainting my mind with memories of the Spanish man's first assault on my land and my land and my people. Smoke filling the air from their guns, my men's own weaponry out of date and useless in comparison. Blood was everywhere then. My own body was full of holes and stained red.

Now these- these- I don't know what to call them. They have never been humans, not really, just stealing their appearance to fit in. Perhaps monstruos would be a better description. Whatever they are, they are here to put me through that all over again, but worse. They plan to cut me into chunks like they've done before and, if more land appears, again and again.

I wonder if my brothers (already small pieces themselves) will be spared from my own gruesome fate. I hope so. I don't want them to suffer like their hermana mayor.

A hand is reaching for me, pale just like all the other bastards. In the other hand is a raised gun, but I worry more with the one making to grab me. I close my eyes. Will they start to fight over me here? Will they make my siblings watch their sister get torn to pieces? Oh Lord, at least spare them that.

"Hold it!"

At this new voice -lacking in the European's similar accents but not missing in one of its own- my eyes snap open again. A man -no, another nation stands in front of me, his back the only thing that faces me. I can tell that he is tall though and he has hair similar in color to sand. His shoulders are broad and brave, without the weight of fear and worry to weigh them down. Oh how I wish I could see his face!

He's speaking again, that strange accented voice an angry snarl. I'm glad that anger isn't pointed at me, for he sounds more dangerous than many of the creatures in my land. "Back away from the girl, you bastards! There isn't anything here for you to take! I don't want to see you anywhere near my country or this continent! I want the pacific clear of your ships!"

With every word, he takes a threatening step forward and the cowards step back. There is fear in their eyes now. Fear and respect for the strange young nation (he wasn't nearly as old as the others).

"Go back to killing yourselves in Europe and leave us out of it." He seems to calm down now. "Leave her land. Right now." He is forceful, yet his voice is also gentle when he mentions me. I feel myself start to blush.

They listen. They leave my land, going off to search for a new reason to attack each other. My airways are free from their disgusting smell at last and my nation is free of their presence.

With the threatening nations gone, the blonde before me collapses to the ground next to me. Only now do I notice the poorly mended wounds on his body. He smells of blood too, but it is lacking the bloodlust all the other nations have. He smells simply of copper and I focus on that instead of the alternative.

"Are you okay?" I ask, since it's what must be asked and I actually am concerned for the man. He saved my ass, the least I can do is make sure he is fine.

He props himself up on a muscular arm and just looks at me for a moment. Now that I can see his face I don't waste a moment and view the features I hadn't been able to see before. My savior has blue eyes, the kind of blue that resembles the ocean -or at least the false ocean we see in our minds. A blue that isn't really possible in real life. Though his voice had sounded so scary before, his face holds no evidence of ever containing any anger. A small grin pulls at the corners of his mouth as if there was something entertaining about this whole encounter. He's young, but stubble makes him look older than the rest of his features hint at.

He's very handsome.

Suddenly, he's standing again and he is silhouetted against the viciously beating sun. I can't see his face anymore and soon worry is filling my gut. What if all of this was just a ruse to get all the other nations out of the way so he can have me all to himself? I find myself not caring as much as with the Europeans. Perhaps it's because, if this is true, he won't be tearing me to pieces. That is always a plus.

His hand reaches for me and I flinch, but instead of grabbing me he lays it gently on my crown. He's ruffling my -"blacker than ebony, softer than silk"- as Spain referred to it- hair and I'm just confused. The laughing doesn't make it better.

"They probably won't bother you for a few decades, but I'd still watch out." He's still being kind to me and I don't understand it. I can tell that he's grinning at me now. "Don't worry. One day you'll be a big hero like me."

And then he walks away. I don't try to stop him.

_**That's all folks!**_


End file.
